The Art of War
by Lisoata
Summary: All warfare is based upon deception. Series of drabbles involving the esteemed advice of Sun Tzu.
1. Direct

Author's Note:

This is a series of drabbles involving me selecting Sun Tzu quotes and applying it to the strategy of Death Note - strange, I know, but a little different and hopefully entertaining. I do want to do some sort of organisation and analysis of all different tactics, manipulations and strategies used in Death Note at one point. That will take a while, but, nevertheless, consider this incomplete until I have completed that lofty goal.

After reading Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War', I have come to the conclusion that Light keeps a copy of it under his pillow - to match Machiavelli's 'The Prince' on his bedside table. They've probably all got textbooks on game theory somewhere too. Light is after all, the God of Strategy in one of TV Tropes' meta-fictional pantheons. But who would know trivia as useless as that except obsessive introverts who spend all far too much time on TV Tropes? And we mean _far_ too much time.

* * *

_There are not more than two methods of attack - the direct and indirect; yet these two in turn give rise to an endless series of manoeuvres._

* * *

_I am L.  
_

* * *

Attack, defend, probe, insult. The move was swift and elegant and oh-so-mocking, revenge served hot and steaming for the insults Light had payed him before. It was a sly move, a rash move, overly exposed, but so, so safe. A mask, a warning, a face-and-a-name. A bold declaration of idea and identity -here I am! Aren't you going to kill me? Oh, no, you can't. Sorry. And then a smirk.  
They really were too, too similar.  
Switch, reverse, indulge in stress-relieving maniacal laughter - that's enough now. We have a new, more exposed, more intimate playing field.


	2. Mistakes

_A clever fighter...wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that has already been defeated._

* * *

_I can't count on Kira making any mistakes._

* * *

Little glass eyes dotted Yagami's room and in L's mind they were actual eyes, blinking and shuddering and pulsing, prodding at his darling suspects mental defenses, waiting for the slip, the reveal, the chink in his armour and - no, no, L wasn't getting his hopes up.

This boy, this antagonistic example of efficient insanity is silk hiding steel, tear away the silk and find the blank, cold surface of someone determined never to slip up, to not give L the slightest chance to swoop in, swoop out, prey clutched in his talons before being dashed across the floor.


	3. Revelation

_Rouse him, and learn the principles of his activity or inactivity. Force him to reveal himself, so as to find out his vunerable spots._

* * *

_Try to kill me!_

* * *

It was a bright, bold Incident.

It was a daring, yet carefully planned move.

It was a testimony to human intuition.

It set the playing field for days to come.

Light found himself lovingloathing the enemy who had humiliated him, the enemy who taunted him. This faceless enemy who would rather die than exist in a world with an omnipotent God who could murder anyone with a wave of the hand - because surely that was it! It was perfect, perfect, the arrogant contestance of intellectual inquiry:

_'If such logic-defying deus-ex-machinas exist as omnipotent killers, I'd rather not live.'_

_'If you're going to challenge me, I'm not going to let you live - I don't have time to bother with silly little detectives like you.'_

Come on, stare hard at those hazy, anonymous shadows of your enemy, wait tensely and tersely for a face to match them.  
Come on - play the game.


	4. Skill

_The height of skill is to defeat your enemy without fighting._

* * *

_Keep worrying Ruzaki, keep struggling and suffering. I'll make you comfortable soon._

* * *

There was a word for this. There was a word that would sum up this whole situation perfectly, beautifully. Light could swear it was on the tip of his tongue.

Ironic.

There we are.

How goddamned, goaddamned ironic.

And the only people to appreciate it were Light and Rem – L too probably, cynically, idealistically, maybe despairingly (Light hoped).

It was nothing more than a collision of interests, a clashing of goals, an event as inevitable and inexorable as the end of the world and twice as lovely.

They would clash and collide over darling Misa, those who wanted her dead and dead and imprisoned and alive. Beautiful Misa-Misa with silk and silver and lace, smiling and faking and in love with death in far too many ways.

Light sat back – that _smirk_ – and let the events play out, the situation reach it's conclusion and the hopes and desires of all the pawns and all the players deliver him the world on a platter, on a plate.

The world fell into his eager hands.

He had no regrets.

_(You bastard son of a bitch, that's a lie, you hear me, a lie!)_


	5. Rapid

_Rapidity is the essence of war. Take advantage of your enemy's unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes and attack unguarded spots._

* * *

_I found this cell phone amid the chaos earlier…_

* * *

And no, no, he couldn't help it, a smirk was clattering across his face, _is this Misa's phone, Light_? Oh? Really? And that moment, there, was almost euphoric, L could see it all playing out, the arrest, the trial, Light staring up at him with beautiful hazel eyes filled with anger and hate and something almost like betrayal, but not that, not quite. He wanted that, even though it wouldn't happen, wanted it ever since he'd found the slip-up, the path, that moment when Light's paranoia finally failed him and he wasn't as guarded as he always, always was. L's victory tasted like strawberry lipgloss and smelled like overpriced perfume and looked like a girl too clever and too stupid for her own good, stumbling around in a game she was and wasn't meant for.

It was almost disappointing, in a way, seeing the oppurtunity, seeing momentary slip in Light's defences, stepping in and that was it. This ought to have been a more prolonged game, maybe, maybe, but wouldn't it all be worth it if he could look down at Light just once and smile gently, childishly, whisper _it was good while it lasted _and – well, Light could react in any way that suited him, foolishly brilliant savant that he is.

Come on love, is this all you've got for me?


	6. HemmedIn

_On hemmed in ground, I would block any way of retreat to make it seem like I mean to defend the position, wheras my actual intention is to burst suddenly through the enemy's lines._

* * *

_I could be Kira._

* * *

Guilt is guilt is innocence combined. Everyone knows the best place for the commander is a prison cell. Now L, what else is this but an act of desperation, tell me? A griding into the ground of forces, a strengthening of barriers, a proof of innocence in the form of a staring camera and thirteen perfectly cylindrical prison bars.

Me? You suspect moi? I'm locked up here, bound and blindfolded and quietly submissive, a good little boy. How could I possibly have anything to do with the litany of baffling events occuring outside this grimy, whitewashed world of mine? Is your certainty crumbling to the ground now? Are you confused beyond your wits end? No, no, of course not, wit without end, I _do_ understand, but wasn't I just on the defensive, darling? Weren't you paying attention?

I ask these questions, rhetorically, of course. I'm locked up here, a good little boy.

_Burn along with the ashes of that temporary victory of yours for all I care._

* * *

__A/N: What? Are you accusing poor little moi for terrible situational abuse? What do you think Sun Tzu meant by hemmed in ground?


End file.
